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David Hilburn Jul 2023
Pretty to fickle, all true
Sovereign in light, and due
Sacred with love, come soon
Time can hospitality, sated who?

Rhythm of a pacing simplicity
Acts and freedom, to tell a story...
Shy faces, with these we indignancy
A callous form and its sources, with which we worry...

Worlds away...
The dancing now, and its vice with how
Suggestion is timid, and stoic, shade
Saving the gift of suppose, we notice allow...

Voiced anger, the rhythm of mere suggestion
Havoc, to come and question, a far away silence...?
Minds to verify a given stone, the break for intimation?
Is ours; are they esteem, or are they courting a promises chance?

Pity a fool for the future...?
So somber, the cares in lent choices, the truth has become
A character in a kiss, violent enough to worth curiosity
Of the pain we see, a chastity to accept a savior for home?

Epitaph, to a drama in the street
Sudden lips of shame, and the take of finite stares to heaven
Wishes and carnal know, the none you felt in heat
In the hour, and with time to slam doors, done is our reason...
Same so suns saw, it in a Magritte painting...

— The End —